


Give Me What's Mine

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aftercare, Barebacking, Bottom!Eames, Community: inception_kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Foreskin Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Orgasm Control, Subspace, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The memory that really stuck in Eames' mind was from that austere hotel room in Arthur’s dream level." Arthur makes Eames want more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me What's Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/20822.html?thread=51354966#t51354966) on the inception_kink meme. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

Eames remembered a lot of things about the Fischer job. It was a milestone, of course, professionally speaking -- if this was technically a profession -- but there were things about it he remembered that wouldn’t exactly make it onto a CV. Not that he had a CV. Well, not one for dreamshare.

The memory that really stuck in his mind -- the one that floated to the surface when he was idly thinking of nothing in particular as well as when he was mentally paging through images before he came when he had a wank in a hotel room bed or the shower -- was from that austere hotel room in Arthur’s dream level.

Arthur. Yes. He was actually seeing Arthur now, which was both astonishing and perfectly natural, inevitable. Arthur called him, Arthur emailed him and kept tabs on where he was in ways that didn’t bother someone even as nomadic and independent as Eames, probably because Arthur was casual about it, brief. Eames had no compunction about trusting Arthur with his whereabouts and at least some of his secrets, and, well, his life. Really, if he thought about it, Eames had no problem trusting Arthur, period.

Still, there was a dichotomy between their extremely satisfactory sex life and that memory Eames held.

The first time they’d slept together, years ago, Eames had fucked Arthur. That just happened to be how it worked out. The next time, the same. Eames had taken the initiative and made the overtures and they just sort of carried on like that, Eames manhandling him a bit as they got more used to each other, bending him over things, roughing him up a bit, and they enjoyed it well enough. Really, it would be impossible not to.

All the same, when Arthur had dropped to crouch next to him in his dream level and helped him with his line when he absolutely didn’t need any such help, something changed, at least in Eames’ mind. And it reminded him of things he’d wanted, things he never really got.

He hadn’t said anything to Arthur about it, wasn’t sure how to put it into words, exactly. Being flat on his back under Arthur, watching him take charge, efficiently ...caring for Eames pulled so many things into place for Eames that he still wasn’t sure what it meant. Arthur had been under a lot of stress on that job -- well, they all had -- and Arthur showed his stress far closer to the surface than did Eames. Yet Arthur had taken the time to do that when he could have been fussing at Cobb.

Arthur made him want more.

\-------

One cold night in Arthur’s New York flat, they had some wine and Eames fucked Arthur within an inch of his life. Arthur, resplendent and pink, still shaking a bit, spread out in the sheets and then stretched, raising himself over Eames in the process to kiss him and collapse on him with an exaggerated grunt. “Mmm,” he sighed.

“Arthur,” Eames began, warm and tingly all over from drink and Arthur and sex.

“Mmm,” Arthur said again, muffled.

“I’ve something to ask you. To tell you, I suppose.”

“Mm, what is it.”

“Well.” Eames cleared his throat. “Erm. I don’t know where to begin.”

Arthur raised his head, narrowing his eyes, going still and wary. “Is this bad news? If it’s bad, just tell me.”

“No! No, it’s.. not bad news, not really. It’s to do with sex.”

“Oh. Okay.” Arthur looked interested, curious. “Well, go on.”

“We... we trust each other, don’t we?”

“I would say so.”

Eames ran his palm down Arthur’s back in long strokes; he had a tendency to repeat nervous actions when he was anxious. “Well.”

“Eames, come on. Whatever it is, it can’t be that big of a deal.” Arthur chuckled softly.

“I won’t tell you if you’re going to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. Just tell me.” Arthur settled again, but moved so that he could see Eames’ face. Eames, however, looked at the ceiling.

“I want -- Christ, it sounds so daft, I’ll just say it -- there’s something I’ve wanted for a long time that I’ve never had.” Arthur was quiet, listening attentively, clearly trying to hide his wild curiosity. “I’ve not only always... topped, I’ve always been the dominating one. It just... started that way and I never felt comfortable changing it. I never felt grounded enough or trusting enough to ask about changing it.”

Realizing Arthur hadn’t said anything, he paused, heat flooding his face.

“And?” Arthur said, and just that one syllable sounded deeper than Arthur’s usual voice.

“And now I do.” Eames swallowed.

“You do? You want a change?”

“Yes.” Eames finally looked at Arthur then. “If that’s all right.”

“So you want me to dominate you. And you want me to fuck you.”

Eames’ skin grew hotter just hearing him saying it, watching his face when he said it. “Yes,” he said, throat dry. “Please.”

There was a long pause. Arthur’s face was mostly calm, but his eyes were darker and his face seemed to be redder. “I am... extremely interested in that, Eames.”

Eames opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, not sure what he meant to say.

“Very interested,” Arthur continued, and exhaled. “Wow.”

“Have you done anything like that before? Dominating?” Eames asked.

“Little bit. Nothing... super serious. But I’ve done a lot of research.”

“Of course you have.” Eames chuckled.

“Lucky for you,” Arthur said, eyebrows raised, grinning. Growing more serious, he shifted to lie alongside Eames, leaning on his elbow. “So, what kind of domination are you looking for? Humiliation? Degradation? Pain? The list goes on.”

“Oh,” Eames, thinking, shook his head, “well, pain might be nice. But really I think I’d like to be in someone’s control, I suppose. A bit like... like on the Fischer job, when you put in my line.” He glanced at Arthur, then away. Arthur nodded. “Maybe restrain me, tell me what to do. Take proper care of me, know just what I need and when to give it to me.”

Arthur rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow with a groan.

“What?”

When Arthur replied, his voice was muffled. “Nothing, it’s just that if I weren’t so worn out I’d get started on you right this minute.”

“Ah.” Eames nodded. After a moment, he reflected, “I really should have mentioned this ages ago, I suppose.”

“Or I should have. I’ve thought about it too,” Arthur admitted, rolling onto his back.

“Have you?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. It didn’t seem like something we’d do, though, so....” He shrugged. “But now we know better, and we’ve got plenty of possibilities to work with.”

“Are you going to make a list, then?” Eames teased.

“Who says I don’t already have one?” Arthur replied archly.

“...Do you really?” If he did, Eames thought, he wanted to see it.

“Just a mental one,” Arthur sighed. “I figured I shouldn’t spend a lot of time listing out things I wanted but thought I couldn’t have.”

“Mm.” Eames turned on his side and put his arm over Arthur. “Well, you can have.” Arthur hummed.

Eames cleared his throat. “There’s another thing, Arthur. That I should tell you. While I haven’t ever... while no one’s fucked me before, I have had... toys.”

Arthur looked at him with a great deal of interest. “And?”

“Well. When I use them, I... think about you,” Eames said, face heating again. “I’ve also put myself under and dreamed up a projection of you and had him fuck me silly.” He grinned wryly at remembering that.

Arthur stared at him with something like awe, and sighed, a small smile on his face. “This... is a lot to process. We’ll revisit tomorrow,” he said. Eames nodded, and Arthur turned toward him to kiss him soundly, even if they were too worn out for anything more. Then he turned off his bedside table lamp and settled in, an arm over Eames. They fell asleep like that.

\-------

The next morning, sobered up with a slight headache, Eames felt a bit embarrassed. He had, after all, said some very revealing and intimate things. And perhaps Arthur hadn’t been as interested as he’d seemed.

Eames realized that was not the case in short order. After a very pleasant shower and a delicious breakfast, Arthur got dressed to meet a client for a rundown on an upcoming job. “While I’m out,” he told Eames (who was lying on the bed, watching him dress) as he knotted his tie, “relax, read, watch a movie, nap, meditate, go shopping, whatever. Take some time for yourself to unwind and do what you want. Because when I get back, you’re doing what I want.”

One thing about Arthur that made Eames’ knees weak was the way he seemed so young but so poised and confident as well. There wasn’t an inch of doubt or bravado in him as he said this. Eames knew he could appear fairly intimidating, and so many people rolled over for him, metaphorically or not, without questioning it. Usually, that was just fine with Eames.

“All right,” Eames replied after a moment, a little gobsmacked and a tiny bit in awe.

Dressed and ready to go, Arthur leaned in for a kiss goodbye, smiling.

\-------

Eames napped a bit, then watched a movie, then made himself lunch, then had a brief run on Arthur’s treadmill, then watched some telly. Arthur came back during a documentary on birds of paradise. Setting down his attache case, he shed his coat, gloves, and scarf, and said to Eames, “You still want to do this?”

Eames nodded.

“All right.” Arthur took off his shoes -- he was a stickler for that -- but didn’t take anything else off. He gestured for Eames to get up. “We’ll start out simple. But if you need me to stop, just tell me. Go back to the bedroom.”

Eames did. Arthur followed. Eames was in his undershirt and boxer shorts, and some socks, since it was cold. “Undress,” Arthur told him, standing with his hands in his pockets. “Let me watch you.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Eames said, but Arthur ignored that.

Eames shed his shirt, feeling his face heat a bit under Arthur’s calm gaze. He took off his socks, and lastly his boxers, not going too slowly or too quickly.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jesus,” Arthur said bluntly, suddenly, as Eames stepped free of his boxers. “Do you have any idea of all the things I could do to you?”

Eames blinked, jaw going a bit slack, his lips parting. Arthur cupped his jaw, moved his hand around to tug lightly at Eames’ hair with long, strong fingers. Eames inhaled sharply. Arthur was watching his face, eyes bright.

Arthur released his hair with a pull, and then moved to the bed. He sat up straight against the headboard, legs akimbo, hands on his thighs. “Come here,” he said, nodding toward the space between his knees.

Eames moved onto the bed. “Back to me,” Arthur said as Eames settled in. “Spread your legs. Wider. Bend your knees.” Arthur shifted to press against his back, and bent his lean, strong legs, putting his feet just inside Eames’ legs, keeping them spread. Arthur rested his hand lightly on Eames’ stomach, and kissed the nape of his neck. “Put your hands on the bed,” he murmured. Eames did.

Arthur wrapped his right hand loosely around Eames’ cock, which had been hard since Arthur had told him to take off his clothes. He wrapped his left arm around Eames’ chest, and started to stroke his cock, slowly, almost idly. “I’m going to do this,” he murmured against Eames’ skin, “and you’re going to take what I give you.”

Eames nodded slightly, turning his head a bit toward Arthur, and closed his eyes. “Don’t close your eyes,” Arthur said quietly. “I want you to watch.”

Eames looked down at his cock in Arthur’s fist, as his strokes gradually started to speed up. He took a deep breath, and exhaled it shakily. Eames was uncut, and he was leaking enough precome right now to make this slick enough. Arthur tightened his grip, and went faster, but just as Eames was curling his fingers in the sheets and starting to squirm against Arthur’s hold of his legs, his grip loosened, and his hand slowed. Eames groaned in disappointment, and Arthur licked at some sweat Eames hadn’t realized was on his neck, making him shudder. “No, no,” Arthur murmured, amused. “Won’t be that easy.”

Eames’ skin felt sensitized against Arthur’s clothes. Arthur was fully dressed, completely in control, with Eames naked and writhing before him. Eames nearly closed his eyes, then remembered, and once again watched Arthur’s hand. Arthur started speeding up very slowly, tightening his grip, making Eames start to pant, biting his lip as he tried to shift, struggling to rock his hips.

“You want to come?” Arthur murmured.

“Yes -- God -- please --”

“You can’t yet.” Arthur loosened his grip and Eames groaned again.

“I say when you come,” Arthur said, voice low and even. “Your orgasm belongs to me.”

Well, that had Eames’ cock jumping in Arthur’s hand again. Arthur squeezed him and Eames took a deep breath. Arthur pinched his nipple, taking him completely by surprise; he yelped before he could stop himself. But Arthur just ignored his reaction.

“I love your foreskin,” Arthur said, pausing to stroke his fingertips around the head of Eames’ cock. “You’re so sensitive.” Eames was in fact excruciatingly sensitive just now, as Arthur lightly rubbed and kneaded his loose skin.

“Arthur, Jesus,” he panted, almost having to look away, and then forcing himself to stare before Arthur rebuked him again. Arthur gripped him again, gliding the skin over his shaft as if admiring the mechanics of it. Eames bit his lip; he was going far too slowly, but Eames only allowed himself to breathe harder rather than demand more. Arthur knew, though.

“You want me to go faster?”

“You know I do.”

“You’ll have to be patient. I’m enjoying this,” Arthur said, taking his sweet time stroking and touching, as if this was something he’d never done before. “You can be patient, can’t you?” he said, and Eames swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Arthur kissed his neck, and kept up that idle stroking.

“When you come,” he said, after a few moments, “I want you to watch. I want you to watch yourself coming in my hand. I want you to lick your come off my hand, and I want you to get on your knees, bend over, and put your hands behind your back. You got that?”

“And you’re going to fuck me?”

“Yes, I’m going to fuck you. Tell me what I just told you to do.” Arthur’s fingertip teased around the head of Eames’ cock.

“Erm,” Eames said stupidly. “I’m to watch myself come in your hand, then I’m to lick my come off, and then I’ll get on my knees and bend over with my hands behind my back.”

“Yes. Good.” Arthur started stroking him again, and Eames sighed quietly in relief, but was quickly frustrated again in that his strokes didn’t speed up.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Arthur continued, moving his legs just slightly further apart, and Eames’ with them, “and use you, and come in you. And you’re just going to take it. Aren’t you?”

Eames nodded frantically.

“Say it.”

Eames swallowed. “Yes, I’m going to take it.”

Arthur sighed. “Eames,” he said, lowering his voice. “You’re so good. You’re perfect.” He pressed kisses to Eames’ neck, and started stroking him just that much faster. This change in tone coinciding with the renewed stroking made Eames’ skin feel hot all over. “So good, and all for me.” Suddenly his hand was working Eames speedily, making him gasp, unable to stop himself from arching into the grip. “Look, look at yourself,” Arthur urged, low. “Watch yourself.”

“Please, let me -- can I --” Eames could barely speak.

Arthur shifted forward and up, chin over Eames’ shoulder so he could see a bit more. This also had the effect of pulling Eames’ legs that much further apart as he moved.

“Yes, Eames, I want you to come.”

Eames shuddered, straining against the hold Arthur had on him, fingers pulling at the sheets as he resisted the urge to tilt his head back over Arthur’s shoulder, instead watching himself come in spurts over Arthur’s fingers. He panted hard as Arthur stroked him through it. Then Arthur held his hand to Eames’ lips, and Eames licked every bit of come from Arthur’s fingers, and palm, and the back of his hand, and sucked on his fingers, which made Arthur shift restlessly even if he tried not to.

“So good,” Arthur sighed as he pulled his fingers free, moving his legs so Eames could get on his knees.

Still trembling a bit, Eames shifted forward, head on the bed and arse in the air, knees apart and his hands clasped behind his back. He felt tremendously exposed, and while it was a new sensation, he didn’t mind at all.

Arthur got his slick from the nightstand, and sat on his haunches behind Eames. He unbuttoned his trousers, and slicked up his fingers.

“What am I going to do, Eames?”

“You’re going to -- ah, fuck -- you’re going to fuck me and use me,” Eames said, closing his eyes at the sensation of Arthur’s fingers entering him.

“That’s right. And you’re going to take it.” With his fingers, Arthur stroked slowly into him and back out, a gentle rhythm, one that had Eames soon shifting his hips, restless.

“What do you want, Eames?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Eames said immediately. “Please.”

“Since you said that so nicely.” Arthur got up on his knees, coating himself, and with his trousers and underwear around his hips, he started to sink his cock into Eames, who gasped, jaw slack.

“Arthur. Oh, fuck.” Eames felt Arthur reach for his clasped hands with one hand, the other squeezing Eames’ hip as he inexorably slid home. Something about the way Arthur’s clothes rubbed against the backs of his thighs made him squirm, but when Arthur squeezed his hip, he stopped.

Arthur rolled his hips, went rather slowly for a while to get Eames acclimated, and then started to fuck him in earnest, as Eames panted. Arthur’s shirttails brushed over his skin, making him shiver.

“Tell me how this feels,” Arthur said, voice sounding raw.

“It feels... so fucking good, Arthur, my god,” Eames said, knees sliding that much further apart. His voice was jolted by every thrust. “So full, fuck.”

“Better than your toys?”

“So much better,” Eames groaned.

“Has anyone else ever fucked you, Eames?” Arthur was starting to sound breathless.

“No, Arthur, only you.” Eames shuddered, his spent cock giving a brief twitch. Only Arthur. He was the first.

“That’s right. You’re fucking incredible, Eames, you’re gorgeous,” Arthur said. “Fuck, you’re just.... You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve thought about it.”

“God, you can have it whenever you want, Arthur.” Eames let himself go slack, body a receptor for Arthur’s thrusts and nothing more. Dazed, he just let himself feel.

Then Arthur fucked him faster, harder. He was starting to lose control, Eames could tell, starting to get frantic.

“I’m going to come, Eames, tell me you want it,” Arthur said, voice low and urgent.

“I want it, I need you to, please, Arthur,” Eames panted. He writhed, and Arthur’s cock nudged his prostate. He gasped as though he’d been punched. “ _Arthur_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arthur got out, moving hard and fast, panting as he came, pulling Eames tight against him as he pressed deep, coming inside him as no one else ever had.

Arthur rode it out, grunting low in his throat. Eames was in a bit of a daze as he pressed him forward one last time before drawing out with a groan. Eames slid forward, closing his eyes, humming, trembling lightly all over.

“Get comfortable, I’ll be right back,” Arthur said, breathless, and from the sounds of it doing up his trousers and going out of the room. Eames unclasped his hands, and moved his arms to either side of his body as he laid on his stomach, head buzzing pleasantly, feeling floaty. He closed his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he heard Arthur say, and then there was the touch of a warm, damp flannel on his skin. He relaxed even further under Arthur’s ministrations, and then Arthur told him to put on his boxers, get under the covers, and have some water.

He dozed off, and some time later, Arthur got under the covers with him, stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. He wrapped his arms around Eames, pressing little kisses to his skin. “Mm, hello, darling,” Eames said, sleepy.

“How do you feel?”

“Lovely, thanks.” Eames did still feel floaty. “You?”

Arthur chuckled. “Never better. You know,” he said, fingers stroking lightly over Eames’ skin, “you should let me join you in those dreams. Where I fuck you silly. There’s so much we could do.”

Eames considered. “True. But Arthur, I’m glad this was in reality. When we do this, I want it to be in reality.”

“You’re right.” Arthur nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Did you just say I’m right?” Eames teased, in mock disbelief.

“Yes, asshole.” Arthur laughed, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. “Let’s rest, then we’ll get dressed and go eat. We’ll be starving.”

“Yeah.” Eames relaxed, with a little sigh. “Arthur,” he said, quiet.

“Mm.”

“Thank you,” Eames said, low. “For indulging me.”

“No, thank _you_. Likewise.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sure it was an honor to take my virginity.”

Arthur laughed. “Actually, yeah. It was.” He smoothed his fingers through Eames’ hair, idle, and kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome too, baby. Anything you want, just tell me.”

Arthur stifled a yawn, and stretched, generous and confident in his ability to properly look after Eames, who bit back a smile, fond. More than fond.

After Arthur dozed off, Eames laid awake a while longer, marveling at his fortune before succumbing to sleep, an arm around Arthur’s waist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder), and Liz for all your help!


End file.
